Basis of Humanity
by hellishlygood
Summary: "I tried to swallow the thick lump of embarrassment that was building in my throat and simply call Matt, but pride was a thick gag over my mouth". A depiction of the psyche behind Matt and Mello's relationship.
1. 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**PLEASE READ**

This fiction is going to be a collection of one-shots, in chronological order. They will be a look into the psychological states of _all_ of the characters, though namely Matt and Mello. It is a Matt/Mello fiction and will contain extreme graphic physical and sexual content as well as its fair share of angst. It is my insight into why I think the characters function as they do and will be told through various POVs though mainly **Matt's POV**.

**Enjoy the story! **Reviews fuel my updates and all criticism is welcomed.

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Matt POV

Mihael Keel has always been hot-headed, to say the least. When he was first brought to Whammy's Orphanage, aged 7, he often threw intense tantrums if he didn't get his own way. He would ball his little hands into fists and pound them on the ground, eyes screwed shut so tightly that the only evidence that he had any eyes at all was the two wrinkled indents in his face, where his eyes should've been. Even his knees would be clenched so his whole body grew rigid, warning off anyone foolish enough to try and make him relax. There were many reports to Roger as to how Mello was seen shoving around other kids and bullying them. Roger had initially blamed the aggressive streak in Mello on his family life. Roger had been told the glum and all too familiar tale of how, like so many others, Mello had watched his father beat and ultimately kill his mother. He'd assumed what child wouldn't be angry after that? After all, children who bully are usually bullied by a parent themselves.

As the years progressed, it became apparent that Mello's hot-headedness wasn't going to fade. In fact, it seemed that his emotions were so out of his grasp that they controlled him, rather than the other way around. Mello acted in accordance to his feelings, regardless of how illogical the actions were and this was something he despised about himself. Mello hated that he couldn't work out a cool, collected plan if he was under pressure. Mello hated that he couldn't stop himself smashing the action figure (the one he had saved three weeks of his allowance to buy) because all he could feel was red hot fury after Linda had told him it was 'for babies'. Watari once told me that he believed this to be the true reason that Mello hated Near so much; Mello's emotions controlled him and made him do silly things whilst Near seemed devoid of any emotion at all. Mello was jealous that Near was so disconnected and detached. Like L, Near's mind was full of careful deduction and cool logic, whilst Mello's was full of passion and emotion. And the thing that Mello was most jealous of (so envious that he could taste bitter resentment filling his mouth every time he looked in the mirror), was that Near was similar to L.

I was one of the few (if not only) of the orphans who had managed to maintain a relationship with Mello that consisted of more than fear and respect. I was the only person in the whole of the orphanage who Mello actually confided in. Roger and Watari were bemused as to how the silent, relatively normal, underachieving Matt had managed to gain the blonde terror's trust, but I had and they were extremely grateful for it. I knew Mello well and was more than aware of his hot-headedness, having been on the receiving end of it more than once. That's why it came as no surprise to me that Mello nearly broke the door of their dorm off its hinges when he stormed back in after his meeting with Roger. Roger had given me the - much needed - heads up that L had died and that he would be asking Mello and Near to work together on the Kira case earlier that day. Mello was a whirlwind. In one quick, violent movement, he swiped the contents of the desktop onto the floor and tore his picture of L off of the wall.

"The cheek of it!" he spat at the ceiling though aware that I was listening. "The bloody _cheek_ of it! Asking me to work with him? As what? His blooming assistant?" He continued to destroy our shared room, like a sniper, annihilating any signs of L or tests or Roger in sight.

"Roger meant work with his as equals, Mel, not his assistant," I reasoned gently.

"But we _aren't_ equals are we? That stupid little albino thinks he is better than me, fucking better than anyone!" Mello cursed in outrage. "He just sat there, with his stupid little toys all… all _smug_," he cried petulantly.

"Near's a dick. He's always been a dick, there's something not normal about the creep, man," I agreed. It was futile to argue with Mello when he was on a rant about Near. He needed someone to agree with him and loyal old me stood in for that role.

"I'm not doing it Matt! I'm not being a pawn that Near can play with like one of his toys. I'm going to do it myself! I'll get Kira. I will teach Roger that he should have put me as number one! I'll do it by myself and I won't bloody wait here to do it either. We're old now so we can leave and look after ourselves. I've had enough of being treated like a stupid baby," Mello declared passionately, turning for the first time to actually face me and look me in the eye. "I vow to you Matt, I will get Kira first." I (having now had turned off my Gameboy and given Mello my full attention) reached out and grasped Mello's shoulders, leaning down to stare into his red, angry face.

"Mel, you're a genius…hell screw first and second place, you're a genius no matter what and yes, you are going to get Kira. I know you will. But, where are you going to go? We need a plan first man, then we can set to it and you'll defeat Near, I bet you my whole game collection on that!" I spoke steadily and firmly, encouraging Mello to bring his emotions under control and see the reality that running away (as he had done on a couple of occasions before) was pointless. Mello's chest heaved in and out with ragged breaths as he tried to reign himself in. His face was wet with hot, humiliated tears and they served only as a reminder of how his emotions made him weaker than Near. My speech seemed to have worked on him for a minute, before realisation dawned on his face and a look of outrage returned.

"Wait a second. How did you know Roger asked us to work together? How did you know what I was talking about?" Mello's voice raised an octave in suspicion and my eyes widened in panic. I'd slipped up; I had commented that Roger had wanted them to work as equals and not Mello as Near's assistant. I had inadvertently revealed that Roger had told me about L's death before he had told Mello and that, in Mello's eyes, was an ultimate betrayal.

"Don't be mad Mel. I wasn't told any details. Roger just warned me to look after you. He knew I would want to help you!" I pleaded as Mello wrenched himself out of my grasp. My hands felt strangely empty.

"I don't need your help! I don't need _anyone's_ help!" he screeched. A terrible, heartbroken sound escaped his lungs. "You're not even anything! You're number three… what could you possibly offer me? You're a stupid, lazy child who likes stupid childish Gameboy games!" Mello voice portrayed perfectly his desperation, his humiliation and his feelings of betrayal. My eyes began tearing up beneath my goggles and they suddenly felt steamy and unpleasant on my face. I pulled them down. I was used to insults from Mello and knew he didn't mean what he said but I hadn't seen Mello this upset before; this volatile. "I'm leaving this fucking place. For good this time! And YOU… you aren't coming with me. All of you are so pathetic and now L is dead…he's DEAD, so there is no point waiting around here. I'm not coming back this time Matt!" he yelled until spit was flying out of the corners of his mouth and his face was shiny with redness. His hair swung wildly around his face as he rampaged through the room, grabbing his rosary, his money stash, his clothes. I was well aware that Mello made empty threats. He would be gone for a night, maybe two, and then come back surely? He wouldn't really go out into the world with no money, nowhere to go? I was a sensible person. I craved a normal life and part of that plan was staying looked after at the orphanage for as long as possible until I had a firm job or place to live. I had seen how cruel the outside world can be; it had chewed my mother up and spat her to the dogs when she was broke and desperate for some drug money. Somehow, I didn't quite see Mello lasting long out there. Amongst the rational want to keep Mello from acting like a complete idiot, I felt something else; a fear that I hadn't experienced since I was first brought to Whammy's. Was I really being abandoned again? First I'd been abandoned by my drug-whore of a mother and now I was being abandoned by my best friend… my _only_ friend.

"Mello man, you can't leave here. You've got nowhere to go! You're my best friend Mel and I believe you can do this but really, what good is coming from leaving. I know you're upset but can't you see it's a bad idea?" I followed Mello's path with his eyes, wringing my hands together in anxiety. I finally reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Mello's T-shirt and tugged with all my might. Mello snapped around to meet my gaze. "What about me Mihael? I've put up with all your shit these years. I've been there for you. What the fuck about _me_?"

"Well you should've acted like a best friend and not kept L's _death_ from me Matt! You should've told me instead of discussing me behind my back with Roger! Go to Near… you deserve him," Mello wrenched his arm out of my grip and left me, teary eyed and frustrated in our dorm.

Mello's fury was what guided him to the bus stop. His humiliation placed his hand in some middle aged woman's bag to quickly pickpocket her purse with the hefty sum of cash in it. His hurt was what sat him on the next flight to LA.

OOOOOOOOOO

Mello's POV

It was only the next day when I woke up in a grimy motel (the only motel that didn't assume I was a rent boy just because I was a young boy on his own), that my emotions stopped controlling me. I wept like a child into the thin sheets at the pure stupidity of my situation. Near was at Whammy's with all the resources and money they had to offer whilst I was a teenage boy in an unknown city with nothing but a fistful of stolen cash. I tried to swallow the thick lump of embarrassment that was building in my throat and simply call Matt, but pride was a thick gag over my mouth and I hit the red 'hang up' button before the phone had rang twice. How could I admit that I was childish enough to throw a hissy fit the whole way to Los Angeles? How could I admit that the things I had yelled at Matt were due to hurt and not hatred? Being the bigger person and apologising was never one of my strong suits.

I cursed quietly again when I felt the familiar stinging behind my eyes and harshly wiped away the tears threatening to fall. It fucking hurt that Matt had been talking to Roger about me like he was my carer, not my friend. And it _really_ fucking hurt that I didn't have any texts or missed calls from Matt. I didn't, for one second, consider the idea that Matt was giving me space to cool off. I was used to being unloved, dejected and unwanted, so my brain looked at what it knew from experience and took Matt's lack of contact as Matt not caring that I was gone. Maybe, if I hadn't had the unfortunate upbringing I was given, I would have deduced that Matt wasn't calling me just yet, because he was scared of driving me further away whilst I was angry. I certainly didn't think that my auburn haired companion may have also been sitting, alone, feeling just as dejected and just as abandoned as I did. I desperately wanted to be superior to such basic human emotions and have a complex reason as to why I refused to call Matt, but the truth was clear; I was just too proud to be the one who called _first_.

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	2. 2

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Matt's POV

It took me a little over four months to call off the personal investigator I had trailing Mello. I'm not sure when, exactly the definitive moment that I decided to give up and move on was, but I think it was a sum of lacking funds, lacking news and nagging from the Whammy's counsellor that brought me to the moment. After Roger found out that Mello had hopped on a plane to LA of all the clichéd places, it was surprisingly easy for Jonathan to find him. Jonathan's first call had been a bizarre slap in the face for me; Mello was hanging around with prostitutes. I was beyond shocked that he had stooped that low that fast. And a bigger part of me than I cared to admit, was in shock that Mello had seemed to have reached his sexuality; I had always assumed he was still immature in that department. He'd certainly shown not even a scrap of interest in sex at Whammy's. Alongside my shock, I couldn't deny the strange, dropping sensation in the pit of my stomach. I was disappointed that Mello was showing interest in people other than me. What was worse was that I was infinitely more disappointed that he appeared to be straight. I had known I was gay since my first crush, aged 11. Michael O'Hara was a boy from the orphanage a few years older than me and ever since laying eyes on him - and his perfect ass - I had daydreamed about him naked. I practically glowed when I caught a glimpse of him changing before sports; he was one of the first boys to get the beginning signs of a six pack at Whammy's. I melted every time he flashed his toothy smile. It was impossible for me to deny the inevitable; I was gay all right. Until that call from the PI, I hadn't considered the idea that I had a thing for Mello, but jealousy is jealousy and I was green with it.

It took Mello a mere week to call me. He may be stubborn, but Mello doesn't have the willpower he likes to think he has. I imagined him, sitting by the phone, berating himself over and over for giving into his weakness and calling.

"LA nice and sunny?" I drawled. I was bitter about what Jonathon had told me and couldn't refrain from mocking.

"…That desperate that you had me followed?" Mello replied coolly. He never took being laughed at well.

"It was hardly hard to. The PI even suggested that you maybe wanted to be found with the way you were acting. Wanting me out there?" I teased further. I was being far crueller than I usually was. It was immature but it was as if it was out of my control. The words were pouring out of my mouth before I could filter them and calm myself.

"I'm disappearing soon. You think I'd really let Near and that bumbling fool Roger find me this easily for long? You're little PI isn't going to be much help," he said with such conviction that I believed him. Mello wouldn't allow himself to be made fun of for long and he was genius enough to know how to truly disappear. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. The urgency of the situation pulled me from my petty mocking.

"Well then I don't have much time. Come back Mel. We can bleed Roger of all his money and use it to get you ahead. You can't stay there hanging with prostitutes; you're going to get yourself killed!" I conveyed my desperation in my voice. I heard him exhale in distaste down the receiver. Fuck, I'd missed him whether he was being a petulant child or not.

"Look Matt, if you just want to talk reason into me you may as well hang up now, I'm doing this," he sounded bored and firm and I yanked at my hair in frustration and sighed, which he scoffed at. "_Clearly_ you don't believe that I've sorted myself out, I'm not hanging around this area for no good reason you twit, and I've got myself in with some people. Connected people Matt and I must say I've made quite an impression," he explained and suddenly I felt extremely silly for assuming he was getting with prostitutes for the thrill of it.

"Gangs" I deadpanned, majorly unimpressed.

"Oh no, I went for a higher class than that my dear Matt. The Mafia," he sung, full of glee and pride. I felt bile rise in my throat and anger bubble. My mother's drug abuse stemmed from her mixing with members of organised crime and I blamed them for her death. Mello took my silence as defeat and I could hear the grin in his voice. "So get your butt out here Matt, I could use my hacker here. Seriously, we get paid shitloads, so I will wire you the money for the plane ticket. You reckon you can be here by Saturday?"

"I'm never, _never_ getting involved with the mafia Mello and the fact that you even asked that shows you don't pay any fucking attention to me at all!" my voice was shrill and on the verge of breaking into yelling. "Now come back home, I want you here, it's been bollocks without you. And I know I shouldn't 'cause you're an insensitive arse who is a shit friend but… I miss you," I added, my voice softening to affectionate by the end of my rambles. Mello was silent for a long time and we listened contentedly to each other's breathing. His fast, quick bursts of breaths mixed with my slow, languid ones.

"This is about your mum," he said carefully after a long time silence. "I get it, I do, but Mail, you won't get hurt and won't get involved so just come out here man," he spoke gently as if he was being understanding but he wasn't – he didn't fucking _get_ it.

"Why do you want me there?" I asked. I knew what I wanted, I wanted him to be brave and admit that he cared for me. I'd read enough books on unrequited love and seen enough TV shows to know not to go for the emotionally stunted guys, for friends or for lovers. Like I've said, I'm a rational guy and I wanted a normal life. Ideally, I wanted Mello involved in that normal life with me because fuck, he's Mello and I adored him. But, I wasn't giving up my dream for his; at least not if he couldn't even admit he missed me. Mello must've sensed my hesitation and, typically cowardly Mello, he withdrew into himself.

"Look are you coming or not 'cause I need a hacker?" he barked. I let out a long, disappointed sigh.

"You should've never made me make this decision Mihael… You know about my past. I'm not coming, but send me over your work and I will hack from here," I said quietly, tearing up despite myself. There was a pause, then the dial tone. Mello had hung up.

Three days later, I got a call from Jonathon saying he couldn't trace Mello anymore and that he'd upped and left from the motel he'd been staying at. I ordered him to keep trying, though his prices doubled when I told him to look for mafia connections. Months went past with no contact between Mello and I. Jonathan acquired a photo here and there; a morsel of information to feed my curiosity. It wasn't enough. Mello had certainly found his sexual awakening. Photos showed him wearing tight leather with choppy hair and in rue of myself; I was more attracted to him. He was managing to weasel information out of some of Near's SPK team, but I would expect nothing less of him. Other than that, I didn't know anything. I didn't know if he'd fallen to drugs and murder or rape and pillage. After a while, my mind stopped wondering and my curiosity dimmed. The counsellor helped my get the confidence to socialise with more of the orphans and I even struck quite a close companionship with Linda. My 'normal' life that I had dreamed about was becoming more likely. My fingers sometimes still itched to call Mello (even though I doubted his number would still be in use) but I thought about him less often than I used to. Just shy of five months into my investigation, I called Jonathon off the hunt. Admitting the end of the search was a hard mouthful to chew but I found solace in playing my video games. Sometimes, it's nice to get lost in a world different than this.

OOOOOOOOOOO

**Please read and review. I'd like to know what bits you like and what you don't. I'd also quite like to know if you have a favourite line in the fi****cs? I'm trying to pick out my favourite quotes from each page and improve on them. **


	3. 3

**Warning: contains sexual content. Rated M.**

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Matt's POV

If I was a believer in fate, I would say that fate brought me to LA, but I'm not. It was a job that brought me to LA. It was a lucky coincidence really. EA games had been releasing some new games that I was interested in and, out of boredom if nothing else, I hacked their system to get the demo before it was released. It was no easy task and shortly, EA games found the error in their system and fixed it. However, they'd been so impressed that a sixteen year old boy had managed to get into the system that they offered me a place in their LA offices. Roger outright refused to let me go, but when EA mentioned that it was either the internship or charges pressed against me, he caved. Better a job with a powerful computer company than a juvenile criminal record, right? I'd be lying to say that the idea that I might bump into Mello didn't cross my mind. I felt my heart jump with a hope and excitement that I hadn't felt since he'd left. Yet, then again, that could have been the excitement over landing myself a sweet deal with one of my favourite game producers. Either way, I was in LA and settling down easier than I had thought I would. I was antisocial, of course. I'd been set up in a small, but cool, condo and when I wasn't in the office, programming and hacking, I was at home, gaming and hacking. I slipped into the life of a workaholic hermit with frightening ease. Despite my condo being littered with pizza boxes and dirty laundry, I believed that I was looking after myself quite well.

It was due to my untidiness that I met Jared. Jared was a twenty three year old trust-fund baby who lived in the condo above mine. One ordinary Tuesday, he came knocking on my apartment to ask me to stop leaving my cigarette butts around the doorway of the complex and instead, ended up giving me his number. Jared's outlandish confidence and vulgarity made me, the socially inept geek, strangely comfortable in his presence. It wasn't the familiarity and ease I'd had around Mello (Jared didn't know me inside out and I didn't know him that well either), but it was company. He spent most nights at my condo, smoking, drinking and bitching that I clean my place up a bit.

"You're such a dirty, _filthy_ boy," he'd tease sultrily, leaning back against the kitchen counter in naught but his bright green, sinfully tight underwear.

"But you just _love_ it when I'm dirty with you," I'd growl and spin him around until he was bent over the top. I'd pin his hands to the surface and ravage his neck with my mouth, pressing my erection hard up against his ass. He was good in bed; unbelievably compliant and submissive. The first time we'd had sex, I felt as if he'd been the virgin and I the more experienced, when in reality, it was visa versa. My heart didn't leap when I saw him after work, I didn't sit around waiting for texts from him, but at some points I thought that I may have felt something akin to love for Jared. Yet, though he was smarter than your average American (his father had paid for the best private schooling), but his mind couldn't keep up with mine and sometimes I felt that my mind wasn't stimulated by him, or by anyone.

I often pondered over how to get into contact with my lost childhood friend, but I was unsure he'd even want to see me. Mello was easily scorned and I knew he wouldn't have taken my rejection lightly. Hell, he may have been an entirely different person and have forgotten all about our times together. So, I didn't try to find him. Well, that was until Near offered me a place at the SPK headquarters. Roger continued to pester me over how I was wasting my time with games and how I should be working on the most important case of the century. Apparently, he'd been pestering Near about me too. I knew Near, who was content only when alone, wouldn't have invited me to work alongside him out of his own initiative. His email was blunt, but polite, asking me if I wanted to meet that Friday and discuss joining the SPK. I considered ignoring the email. After all, I wasn't interested in the case and part of me was still furiously loyal to Mello and appalled at the idea of betraying him by working with Near. Yet, as the days trickled by and it grew nearer to Friday, I couldn't bring myself to delete it. There was a possibility (a large one) that Mello was monitoring the SPK web system and had seen the email. At the very least, he would be monitoring who went in and out of the SPK headquarters. This was my chance to get in contact with him. So I replied to Near, agreeing to the meeting but saying it was just a meeting and that it was unlikely he would be able to convince me to work with him. The time between my reply and the meeting went slowly. People irritated me with their leisurely chat and I couldn't sit still for the life of me. I like a dog in the races, straining to be let out of the starting box and chase my rabbit.

My deductions were spot on. I saw a strange man, with a thick neck and ugly, purple veins protruding out of it, lurking by SPK as I walked in. There was no doubt in my mind that he was a crony of the mafia. The meeting with Near was as awkward as ever. His Asperger's caused him to, once again, misinterpret my sarcasm and fail to understand any concept of personal space. I often wondered why he hadn't adopted the usual symptom of Asperger's; avoiding eye contact. His blank, wide stare made me uncomfortable no matter what the topic of discussion. I was in and out of the meeting as fast as I could be and it was with a gluttonous groan that I took my first drag of a cigarette outside of the building.

"Some things never change," came a drawl that I barely recognised from my left. I slowly turned my head to face Mello, acting far more casually than I felt inside. My heart rate had picked up far too much to be purely from the nicotine and I was glad I was wearing my token gloves because I felt that my hands could be clammy. It was Mello. The same Mello I hadn't seen in a year; who was the only person, aside from Roger, to know fully about my past; the same Mello who was my ex-best friend.

"That they don't. That little Near still gives me the creeps," I said dryly. Mello smirked, pushing away from the wall that he was leaned against and sauntered over to me. His leather trousers hung dangerously low on his skinny hips and the skin of his toned stomach peeked out where his black wife beater had ridden up. He had a muscled 'v' that hadn't been there when I'd last seen him and an even more noticeable air to him that hadn't been there when I'd last seen him.

"Not fancying the job with the SPK then?" he asked sarcastically.

"Was more fancying running into you," I blurted out in a way that was less sexy than I'd hoped. I was expecting the familiar little smile to stretch across his lips the way it always did when I blundered and made a fool of myself, but it didn't come. In fact, he just seemed agitated.

"I need to get off the streets and assuming you're still the prim and proper little pussy who won't step foot in my office, hurry up and take me to yours," he snapped with no trace of cheer in his tone. I frowned and pulled my goggles back over my face to hide my disappointment. "I don't have time to waste standing here, reminiscing about childhood with you, take me to your fucking place, Matt," he growled when I didn't reply. In horror, I waved my hand to indicate he should follow me and we paced, in silence, to my condo. Thank God Jared was out.

"Not too shabby," Mello laughed humourlessly when we'd gotten safely into my condo and out of earshot of people who may be following him. It was then that I noticed the expensive watch on his wrist and the gold rosary he had upgraded to from his usual, shabby one. Apparently, Mello fancied himself a rich man.

"How've you been? How've you handled it all?" I asked, taking quick drags of my cigarette – the third cigarette since I was on since I'd seen him. He sipped noisily on the coffee I had made him and sat, reclined on my sofa with his boots up on the coffee table.

"I've got high up and fast. I'm the youngest to ever be in such a senior position. It's given me an edge on the case that I don't think Near can ever hope to get. Found a connection you wouldn't believe," he started, not grasping – or ignoring – the real meaning of my question; how he was _feeling_. With no hesitation, he started on his story. He told me all the leads he had on Kira and wondered me with his talk of Shinigami. For a second, I thought he was really gone. That crack or something equally as potent had riddled his mind, but the more he spoke, the more these Gods of Death made sense. It was _enthralling_ and, true to our old selves, we spoke for hours, feeling like it had only been minutes. Yet, we hadn't spoken about what I originally wanted to. I hadn't found out anything about _him_. I didn't know whether he had been scared or whether he had been raped or whether he had killed people. I didn't even know if he was still as hot-headed as ever. I finally got the courage to speak up.

"Doesn't it bother you? I mean, you're a religious zealot. You can't tell me that you've managed to spend a year in the mafia without doing their dirty work? Tell me, how many did you beat to within an inch of their life because they'd tattled on someone?" my voice was dripping with black humour, meaner than I'd intended it but still laced with a hidden worry for his well-being. I knew he would be able to hear the worry and care above everything else. He smirked again (something that was beginning to grate on my nerves) and stood up. He stretched, revealing more of his toned, flat stomach. He walked around the coffee table and ruffled my hair in a condescending way.

"Sometimes you have to kill for the greater good Matty. God is well aware of the need for sacrifice. And as it turns out, I'm very good at making…sacrifices" he drawled, flashing the gun hiding in his jacket pocket to emphasise his point. I almost gulped. "It turns out that being a child genius with a quick eye and a good aim makes me more a lot more fucking threatening than your average mafia chump".

"I can imagine it does. You've never been one to be taken lightly. But come on Mel, it's me. Are you okay? How have you managed? I've was worried sick about you, out here, alone. Even you are scared of some things," I persisted, trying to push through his barriers and walls as I had once been able to do so easily. He spun around and faced me with a steely glare that he must have adopted from the mafia; I'd never seen him be so cold.

"I've always been _a__lone_, Matt," he spat cruelly. "And I've been fucking peachy thanks. I'm not some child you have to look after. I've done more than a good enough job looking after myself. The world will be thanking me once I've stopped Kira. The pathetic mass murderer may have a God-complex, but here, I rule the streets. Here, I am number fucking one. So need for the concern sweet cheeks, save it for someone who cares," he finished and I was shocked that it wasn't said in anger or spite. He seemed perfectly calm when speaking. Usually, I could see little signs in his mannerisms to indicate when Mello was lying or just saying something for show. He would blink a bit faster than usual and toy with the rosary discreetly, but right then, none of those signs were present. I sat there, mouth firmly shut, like I was dumb. I didn't know what to say. I could pry further but I was afraid of what I would find. This meeting hadn't been the joyous reunion I had hoped, nor was it the passionate arguing I had expected. It was reality. And in reality, Mello had changed into someone I did not like. We spoke for a while longer about trivial things, but Mello seemed to be itching to leave. In my head, I assumed he had important mafia business to attend to and that he deemed it more important - more interesting -than me. If I'd looked at it realistically, I would have perhaps deliberated that he found it hard to be around me. I was a reminder of the innocence he had lost after all, he was embarrassed to be flaunting his sin around me when I was a reminder of all that he had originally strived for; the morals he originally held and that he had now smashed to dust.

"That's work again…" he said when his phone rang shrilly for the second time.

"Yeah it's cool, you'd better go. Jared is on his way back anyway now," I cut him off before he could finish his awkward excuse to leave. It was petty to fling in that I was expecting someone but it was true; Jared would come over to my condo soon so I wanted Mello gone. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure if I didn't want Jared seeing Mello or Mello seeing Jared.

"Jared?" he asked nonchalantly as he pulled on his leather jacket. I briefly noted how he smelt so strongly of leather now, nearly overpowering his old scent of chocolate.

"…My boyfriend," I said averting my eyes. I felt a deep blush grow up my neck. I'd never specifically come out to Mello, but I had always assumed he knew I was gay from gossip at Whammy's. I didn't manage to gauge his reaction because all in a blur, he nodded, added a curt "I have your number," and was out of the door.

When Jared came over an hour or so later, I was still high strung. He managed to get out a mere two words before I was kissing him and pulling him close. My lips moved quickly and harshly over his, tongue demanding entrance to the cavern of his mouth and his slippery, responsive tongue. I sucked firmly on his tongue and bit his bottom lip repeatedly; my hands were gripping his neck to manipulate him into responding how I wanted him to. I trailed my hands down his bony back and they fought their way into the back of his tight jeans, cupping and kneading his ass contentedly. I pulled his hips to mine so our groins smashed together in a manner that was almost painful and he seemed to understand my desperation.

"Fuck Matt!" he gasped. "You wanna tie me up?" he added cheekily, his voice thick with lust. I used the real leather wrist cuffs he had bought me as a gag gift to tie his hands above his head to the headboard of my bed. This stretched his lithe body out for me to see as if he was being presented on a plaque. In a swift movement I pressed on his inner thighs, spreading his legs and settling between them. He instinctively brought them up to wrap around me. After a few, fumbling minutes of preparing, I pushed into him, hissing at the tight heat. He didn't need much time to adjust; he was a very experienced bottom. My thrusts started at a steady, speedy pace and he ran his fist tightly over his erection as I pumped into him. I managed to hold back the tingling sensation running up my length and the tightening of my sack and push against his prostate gently until he finished himself, white cum pooling over his hands and a manly groan emitting from his lips. My eyes raked over his sweaty body up to his tied hands and for a few seconds, I was certain I could smell the leather of the cuffs. It took me just a few short, shallow thrusts and I was cumming. It was a quick, short orgasm that brought relief washing over me in waves instead of intense pleasure. When I managed to open my eyes again, I felt guilt seep in. I kissed Jared gently and stroked the sides of his face with my thumbs. I'd cum to the smell of leather, not thinking of the sweet boy below me.

OOOOOOOOOO

Mello's POV

After I left Matt's, I ignored the strange burning sensation behind my eyes. It had been a long time since I had felt the urge to cry. I wasn't sure why I wanted to cry or what exactly had upset me during our meeting but I was a mafia boss and I didn't have a single fucking second to waste on personal issues. I needed to get back to work. So I hurried back to our hangout and got the updates from Rod. I sat; left leg cocked up and right stretched out in a lazy, intimidating fashion whilst listening to Rod's drivel. My attention kept wavering from his monotone voice and skipping to the fact that I nearly bloody _cried_ over my reunion with Matt. It had hardly been a reunion at all, so why had I wanted so desperately to cry? My mind betrayed me and kept drifting to the fact that Matt had a boyfriend. I had had a few…well, urges, when it came to boys before but my strict religious upbringing banished those thoughts from my head before they could settle in. I could picture the old church at Whammy's clearly as I pondered over what Matt's boyfriend would look like. I decided that I was upset that Matt had a boyfriend, not because of any disgusting homosexual thoughts on my behalf, but because I had never really been certain that he was gay before this. Sure, there had been gossip and chat of it at Whammy's but Matt hadn't told me and I'd imagined that Matt would tell me everything. My mind settled on that answer but still, the want to cry was present. I was suddenly filled with a pounding desperation – no, need – to hurt someone. I needed to prove that I was still cold; that I still had my edge. So when Rod mentioned that a random crony called Lucas had kept some petty cash from us, I clung onto the information as if it were my only life line.

Rod boomed out for Lucas and a sweaty, overweight man shuffled his way into the room. I could see the trembling of his Adam's apple from across the room. He reeked of sleaze and fear.

"This is the weasel," Rod explained and Lucas pleaded with his eyes, wringing his hands together. I felt the cool steel of my gun, and the power it emitted, pressed against my thigh. My fingers twitched.

"I'm sorry Mello, I'll pay it back in full. No hard feelings, right? I'm really sorry, it's just that my rent was due…" Lucas' desperation stunk out the room.

"The problem is, Lucas, that you went behind our backs. How could we possibly trust you now? And this business is based solely on trust, you see Lucas?" I spoke slowly and menacingly and I could see the shiny sweat break out onto Lucas' brow. Rod chuckled.

"You can trust me, I will do anything you say to make it up to you Mello!" Lucas pleaded. He had found his way right in front of me and sat on his knees, practically kissing my feet.

"Anything?" I asked teasingly.

"Anything!" He gasped in reply. Rod cocked his eyebrow, unsure as to where this was headed.

"Open your mouth…" my voice came out in a sultry whisper. Rod frowned, disgusted and unsure as whether to leave the room. Lucas was really sweating by now, beads rolled down his neck. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth, accepting the violation that he assumed was coming. In one fluid movement, I had pulled my gun out of the waist band of my trousers, shoved the barrel in his waiting mouth and with a loud, abrasive bang, blew his brains out of the back of his head. "Clean it up," I rasped at Rod and left the room, mess and feelings behind.

The violence had calmed my nerves, but the adrenaline coursing through my body stirred something else up inside of me. I demanded for one of the prettier girls to be brought in to my office and swigged greedily on a glass of whisky.

"What can I do for you, honey?" she crooned. Her breasts were spilling out of the tight, black mini dress she wore and I noticed holes and snags in her fishnets. She had a decent enough figure but her best feature was her mouth; full, puffy red lips.

"On your knees," I demanded, spreading my legs and scooting lower in my office chair. She bent down slowly, sultrily, until she was kneeled between my legs. She spent her time toying with the laces on my trousers, purposefully rubbing and cupping my growing erection through the leather. I grew impatient and yanked my trousers and underwear lower myself, groaning as cool air hit my member. She gasped gently, acting the perfect part. She gathered her auburn hair to one side of her head and the silky strands tickled my exposed thighs. She was skilled for sure. She took a long, wet lick from my base to my tip before encircling my head with the tip of her tongue. I wiggled my hips with agitation; she was teasing me. Grasping the back of her auburn head, I guided her to take all of my length into her mouth and slowly, down her throat. I didn't last long and she left after without saying a word. I sighed heavily and tidied myself up.

I felt thick, nasty, guilt seep into my heart at my sinning. Grasping my rosary tight enough for the beads to bite into my hand, I silently rehearsed Hail Marys in my head. I begged God for forgiveness. I didn't ask God to forgive me for giving into my lust, I asked God to forgive me for thinking of Matt's auburn hair as I'd looked down at the prostitutes face.

OOOOOOOOOO

Please review, I'm not sure if I should keep this one going!


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